You're Wearing Your Coat
by Blood Tainted Sakura Blossom
Summary: *post-reichenbach and unbetaed* small ficlet where John realizes that the man sitting on his couch his not the usual hallucination.


**Just a small post reichenbach ficlet. Basically after Sherlock left John started to have hallucinations whenever he had a bad day so that he had someone to rant at. John never really told anyone after the first couple times because he missed Sherlock, liked having him back if only for a bit, and it was really nice to have someone to blow steam off at. So John's built up a small routine where after a bad day John makes tea for both of them, rants, then goes to bed and waits for another bad day to see Sherlock again. That is until Sherlock actually shows up. **

* * *

John balanced the bag of groceries on his hip as he opened the door to the flat. It had been a long and all he really wanted right now was a warm shower, a cup of tea, and a good nights rest. When he turned on the light he wasn't surprised to see the figure sitting on the sofa, like he said it'd been a long day.

"Evening, Sherlock. Will it be tea or coffee tonight? Wait, it'll have to be tea I forgot to buy coffee." John spoke light-heartedly as he walked into the kitchen and started to unload the bags.

Sherlock blankly stared at John. This wasn't what he'd expected. He'd been gone for three years, had been _dead_ to the world. He had expected crying, hugging, or a punch to the face, what he had not predicted was John walking in to the flat and acting like he'd never left. Sherlock snapped out of his thoughts when a cup of tea, made just how he liked, was placed on the table next to him.

"Enjoy. I'd love to sit and chat with you but as you obviously know it was a long day and I could really use a shower. I'll see you next time Sherlock." Sherlock didn't know how to respond so he didn't, not that it really mattered as John didn't even look back as he disappeared down the hall.

While he was washing, Sherlock ran through a million different scenarios about why John was reacting the way he was. But everything he came up with didn't explain it right or wasn't like John, it just didn't make sense.

"Oh." Sherlock looked up to see John standing at the entrance to the hall dripping wet with only a towel wrapped around his waist. "You're still here?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" the question was out before Sherlock could stop it.

"Well you're normally gone by now. You usually leave after tea unless it was a particularly bad day. Was it? I didn't think so…" John trailed off, his eyes narrowing at Sherlock. "You're wearing your coat." He stated. Sherlock raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"Yes?"

"You are never in your coat. Purple shirt, slacks, and black socks or blue dressing gown with matching pajamas. Never coat and scarf."

"John?" He'd never realized how much attention his friend had paid to his wardrobe. Before he knew it John was standing in front of him looking down at him with scrutinizing eyes.

"Why are you wearing your coat?"

"It was cold in Russia?" John's eyes widened as he fell to his knees. His hand reached out slowly, shaking till it touched Sherlock's cheek lightly.

"Sherlock?" His voice came out brokenly, barely raising above a whisper in volume. The tears Sherlock had been expecting starting to shine in his blue eyes.

"Yes, John?" Sherlock blinked at the sudden feeling of lips against his own. John was kissing him. This was another reaction he had not expected. Secretly hoped for? Yes. Thought it could actually happen? No. Not at all. Before he could return the kiss John was pulling away.

"I swear to every deity that possibly exists that if you're another hallucination I'm going to shoot myself." Hallucination? John had been having hallucinations? Not just that, but having them regularly enough to not even react when one appears, to have formed a _routine!_ John had been having hallucination of him often enough that he didn't even realize that Sherlock was real when he saw him.

Sherlock reached forward and wrapped his arms around his soldier, pulling him close. "Please don't hurt yourself. I'm here John, I'm so sorry it's taken so long. But I'm here now. It's really me."

"Why did you leave me?" John questioned burrowing his head into Sherlock's shoulder.

"I had to. If they didn't think I was dead they would have killed Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. They would have killed _you. _I couldn't let that happen. I'm sorry John. I didn't see any other way. If I could have, I would have taken you with me. I-"

"Sherlock?"

"…Yes?"

"Shut up." John breathed deeply, refamilarizing himself with his best friend's scent. Soaking up the warmth from his body and listening to his quiet breathing. Feeling how solid he was beneath his hands. Taking in all the evidence that this wasn't another waking dream.

"John?" Sherlock asked after they had spent a few minutes in the same position.

"What?"

"Can we kiss again? I wasn't able to fully participate last time." John couldn't help but chuckle as he leaned back up and connected his lips with those of his returned flatmate.

"I love you."

"Love you to, Sherlock."

* * *

**And they lived happily ever after, once John puched him in the face. Come on, Sherlock's been faking his death for _three years_! He's got to let that bottled frustration out some how!**


End file.
